


Captured

by thecryoftheseagulls



Series: Zeryn Brosca [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Partial Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecryoftheseagulls/pseuds/thecryoftheseagulls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brief drabble of the scene where Alistair and Zeryn get captured trying to free Anora from Arl Howe, because getting stuck in a cell half-naked with your not-yet lover is too much fun to not write. Especially when your Warden is a Brosca.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captured

Zeryn wakes with a raging headache. She remembers a blade held to Alistair’s throat and her own sword clattering from her fingertips to the flagstones. Then it all went black.

“Alistair!” she cries out, feeling sudden panic as she forces her eyes open.

Fingers which she had not noticed before stop their combing through her hair. She’s unceremoniously hauled up and against a broad chest and Alistair says shakily, “Shh, I’m right here, love. Thank the Maker you’re awake.” Zeryn blinks a few times and his face comes into focus above her. She reaches out a hand to touch his cheek.

“You all right?” she asks.

He nods, then amends, “Well, ignoring the fact we’re locked up.”

Zeryn sits up with a grimace and puts her hand to her head.

“They hit you pretty hard,” Alistair says, steadying her.

Zeryn looks around. They’re in a large cage with an open room on three sides and a guard nearby. She doesn’t see anyone else.

Zevran and Wynne had been with them when they’d gone to rescue the queen from that sodding nug-humper of an arl, Howe. Then Ser Cauthrien had shown up.

She’d said to Zev, “Do whatever it takes to get the Queen out safely. Alistair and I will hold them off.”

Which had worked…not quite so well. Mindless hordes of darkspawn they could handle, even assassins, but a whole squadron of well-armed guardsmen? The two of them were no match for so many, no matter how well they fought side by side. They’d been overpowered by sheer numbers, Alistair the first to be grabbed and held by many arms. And then Cauthrien had held her sword to his throat and said,

“Drop your weapon or your prince dies.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Zeryn had growled, but who knew if this lieutenant of Loghain’s was as mad as he was? The bastard had tried and failed to kill them enough times already; who was to say the threat of the Landsmeet would stop him this time?

So when Cauthrien had said, “Try me,” Zeryn had dropped Starfang and Cailan’s shield without ceremony and hoped by the Stone Zevran had managed to sneak the others out unnoticed.

“What about the Queen?” she asks Alistair now. “Did they get the others?”

“I don’t think so,” he says. “Just us.”

“Good.” Zeryn pushes herself to her feet and takes a step towards the bars of the cell. She wobbles unsteadily and then Alistair’s arm is wrapped securely around her waist, holding her to him.

“Easy, love,” he says. Zeryn finally notices that they’re both mostly naked, stripped to their smallclothes, and she snorts. His brow creasing, Alistair gives her a puzzled look.

“Felt the need to take _all_ our clothes, did they? Because Stone forbid we have a hidden dagger or some such under our armor. Where we couldn’t even reach it if we needed it. Idiots.”

“I…imagine it’s meant to demoralize,” Alistair says, looking down at her, the look in his eyes earnest and concerned and, frankly, a little bit heated. Far from demoralized.

Zeryn leans to the side in his arms. This is the first time she’s seen so much of him at once. Well, and had the opportunity to enjoy it, that is. She touches the golden hair in the center of his chest with tentative fingers, her gaze reverent. Alistair’s breath catches.

“Ancestors,” she groans. “You’re even more gorgeous than I realized.”

Alistair flushes, and Zeryn watches with delight as it spreads down his neck to his chest and whole body. She grins.

“I…hardly think now is the time, Zeryn,” he mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. Zeryn follows the flex of his bicep, still grinning wolfishly as he does so, and Alistair blushes more. If that’s possible.

“Right.” Zeryn clears her throat loudly. “World to save, cells to escape from, guardsmen to pummel. I get it. Just like old times.” She smirks and stands on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his briefly, teasing. “View’s a lot nicer this time, though,” she murmurs, stepping away and to the edge of the cell.

Alistair watches her for a moment and licks his lips. “Ah. Shouldn’t we, ah, wait for rescue?”

“Rescue?” Zeryn shoots him a cocky grin. “I don’t need a rescue. I told you the day we met, remember? Fighting guardsmen is what I’m good at.” She winks.

Outside , the guard is pacing around the cell in measured steps, glancing at the pair of them every so often. Zeryn wedges her hip against one of the bars and waits until he’s a few steps away, then whistles at him. She smiles, cat-like, one hand reaching up to grasp seductively at the bar above her head and the other toying with the waistband of her smalls. She hooks her thumb inside said smalls and can see the guard swallow noticeably under his helmet in response. His sharp pace falters, brings him just one tiny step closer to the bars than normal. Quick as lightning she has her fingers in his breastplate and she slams him against the bars with all the considerable strength in her small body, yanks the helmet off while he’s still dazed with her free hand and slams him into the bars again with enough force to knock him out cold. She lets the guard’s body slide to the ground against the bars and pats him down until she finds the key. And his purse.

She stands and holds both up to Alistair, who is openly gaping. “You see, darling? Easy as breathing.” She tosses another smirk over her shoulder and goes to put the key in the lock.


End file.
